Drive My Car
by The Yankee Countess
Summary: Rose has arranged something special for Mary's hen night, however when Mary refuses to participate, someone has to take her place! Modern AU, slightly crack-ish, featuring stripper!Tom
1. Chapter 1

_The following is a birthday fic for one of my favorite Sybil/Tom authors (and a good friend) **gothamgirl28**! July 20 was GG's b-day, and she told me that she would love a story to go with a certain gif starring Allen Leech that more or less involved him removing his shirt. You can guess what that inspired ;o) Anyway, here's the result of that story! Sure it's a bit crackish, but hey! It's stripper!Tom and he gives Sybil a lapdance. Whoops! Did I just give away the plot? ;o) Anyway, hope you all enjoy, and HAPPY BIRTDAY GG!_

_Oh, and the song, "Drive My Car" is by the Beatles (in case you didn't know) :oP_

* * *

**Drive My Car  
**_**by The Yankee Countess**_

_Baby you can drive my car  
Yes I'm gonna be a star  
Baby you can drive my car  
And maybe I'll love you._

"Alright boys, listen up!" Thomas announced, clapping his hands to get everyone's attention. The joking voices quieted and all faces turned to their attention to club's owner and leader. "In just one hour, those doors are going to open," he pointed over his shoulder, beyond the dressing room curtains to the main club doors where the sounds of feminine laughter and eager cheers could be heard just outside. "And this place is going to become a hotbed of screaming, orgasmic energy, where beautiful women are going to be falling at your feet, waving money in their fists, and begging for you to make all their wildest fantasies come true, before they have to crawl back to whatever boring life they came from, because that's they're here, boys; to escape. To escape for just a few hours with YOU, the husband they never had, the dreamboat guy who never came along—"

"You're quoting _'Magic Mike'_ again, Thomas," Jimmy muttered, earning a frown from his boss and bursts of laughter from the others.

"I should have sued those producers for taking what is clearly my story and casting Matthew McConaughey in my role," he groaned, earning another laugh as he straightened his cowboy hat. "Alright, enough with the piss taking, this is serious!" he clapped his hands one more time to get everyone to listen. "Fine, maybe you don't need the pep talk, but you do need to know that we have some very important guests coming tonight; some posh bird is getting married this weekend and we have been charged to make this the mother of all hen nights."

Jimmy grinned and quickly leapt to his feet. "I've got it, boss; I'll give her such a performance that she'll have to really concentrate on her husband and be sure not to yell out my name when the wedding night rolls around."

This earned several laughs, as well as groans and various props tossed at Jimmy's head for his cheeky words and massive ego.

But Thomas folded his arms and shook his head. "No, no, I want Tommy to take this one," he announced, turning and looking at the rather stunned Irishman who was sitting in the back corner. Tom, who had been busy polishing the black leather boots he was going to be wearing in his act for the evening, nearly dropped the can of polish all over the floor at Thomas' announcement.

"Tom!?" Jimmy sputtered, turning and looking at the very man Thomas had just mentioned. "But he has no experience with a bachelorette party—"

Thomas waved his hand in dismissal to Jimmy's misgivings. "Every man needs to lose his virginity at some point," Thomas made his way through the room until he was standing right in front of Tom, folding his arms and looking down at the Irishman in expectation. "Well boyo? You up for it?"

Jimmy groaned and rolled his eyes. Several of the other men in the room looked just as doubtful, despite their boss' confidence. After all, Tom was still considered "new" amongst their group, having only been there for a month. However, he was becoming quite popular amongst some of the regulars, to the point where Thomas was considering making Tom the top act in the show.

Tom frowned at Jimmy, but chose to ignore the blonde diva; Jimmy had an ego the size of moon, and Tom knew he was getting on the guy's nerves because all the ladies who used to throw money (and various intimate articles of clothing at his golden head) were now turning their attentions elsewhere.

Mainly, him.

"How's a hen party any different from a usual night?"

"How's a hen party any different?!" Jimmy sputtered before Thomas could answer. "Did you seriously just ask that question?" Jimmy began to laugh at Tom's apparent ignorance.

Tom glared back at the blonde man and rose to his feet, his eyes boring into Jimmy, whose laughter quickly began to die in his throat at the intense stare the Irishman was giving him.

Thomas stepped in before anything could escalate. "Tom, sit back down; Jimmy, just…go someplace else."

Jimmy's eyes widened. "Thomas, you really cannot be serious about letting him—"

"Last time I checked, Jimmy, _I_ still ran this club," Thomas growled. "Out!"

Jimmy tried his best to suppress an eye roll as he walked past, Thomas turning and watching him go, his eyes never leaving Jimmy's ass until it had disappeared beyond the curtains. "He's a diva, that's for sure, but I can't help myself; he gets so cute when he pouts and stomps off like that."

Now it was Tom's turn to suppress an eye roll. "To each their own," he muttered.

Thomas chuckled and turned back to Tom. "To answer your question, yes; there is a difference between dealing with the ladies we usually entertain here on a nightly basis, and a hen party. A hen party is a special group of women; this is the bride's final night of freedom. She's going to let her hair down, she's going to allow herself to get drunk, she's going to do things she may never think about doing—and she's going to be expecting that we give her and all of her friends, the times of their lives. The truth is, Tommy, dancers make more money on a single night when a hen party is in the club than an entire week when there isn't. And the one who makes the most money? Is the one who gets to have some 'one on one' time with the bride."

Thomas didn't have to explain what that meant. While Tom had not worked at Thomas' club long enough to have witnessed a hen party come through, he had seen plenty of groups there to celebrate various ladies birthdays, and those women were always brought up on stage and given special "performances".

"So…lap dancing, then," Tom clarified, trying to sound cool and confident, when in truth he was feeling a bit nervous. He hadn't done anything like _that_, yet.

Thomas laughed and nodded his head. "I think you'll do fine; just relax. Think of it as any other performance!"

Right, any other performance. Any other performance where he danced up on a stage and took his clothes off to a bunch of screaming women, gyrating his hips in such a way, allowing them to stuff five, ten, or if he was especially lucky, twenty pound notes down his underwear. The only difference was he would be bringing a woman up on stage with him, this time. A woman he would then lead to a chair, have her sit down, before stripping in front of her and practically mimicking the motions of hard core sex, while her friends would watch from below and cheer him on.

Right…just like any other performance.

If someone told him two months back that he would be stripping at _Barrow's Burrow_ to help pay the bills on his new London flat, along with his other various odd jobs until a publisher finally picked up his book (which had been floating from one publishing house to another for almost a year now), he would have thought them absolutely mad and have laughed in their face.

…Guess the joke was on him.

* * *

"I can't believe you allowed Rose to plan this!"

Sybil groaned, knowing she would never hear the end of this. Years from now, on Matthew and Mary's silver anniversary, she knew her sister would still be bringing up the hen night and how their cousin Rose had "tricked" them to taking them to a strip club; or rather, how Rose had tricked her.

"All she told me was that she knew of a fabulous club in Camden, that they made the best cocktails, and it was a great place for dancing! I swear! I thought it was perfectly safe!"

Mary lifted one of her delicate dark eyebrows while Edith laughed. "Well, she was right about the cocktails," the middle Crawley sister giggled, before raising her glass to clink with Mary's.

Mary rolled her eyes and fixed Sybil with a look that was just short of exasperation. "And it never occurred to you to look up anything about _Barrow's Burrow_? Have you met our cousin?"

Now it was Sybil's turn to roll her eyes. "I'm sorry, she just…she wanted to help, and she kept pestering me about the hen night, and—"

"Oh Sybil, don't worry about it," Edith reassured, looping her arm through her sister's. "At least Rose is having a good time."

Both Mary and Sybil followed Edith's gaze to where Rose was standing and cheering, waving various pound notes at the dancers on stage, cheering and whooping with all the other women of the club as a parade of men in a wide variety of costumes (meant, Sybil assumed, to cater to a majority of women's fantasies) strutted out, shaking their asses and gyrating their hips, before stripping down to…well…underwear didn't quite seem be the proper term.

"Oh my God," Sybil gasped, blushing and turning her head out of embarrassment when one such dancer tugged his trousers off, revealing a golden thong with sequins, which naturally caused the rest of the club to erupt in screams.

"I can't believe this," Mary groaned. "And after I gave Matthew the lecture about no strippers."

"I don't think you have to worry about that," Edith reassured. "After all, Anthony was planning the stag night, and got the entire groom's party a box at Wembly for the exhibition game between Manchester and…oh I can't remember who the other team is," she shrugged her shoulders before turning and smiling at the bartender and asking for another cosmopolitan. "The point being, they'll be drunk on good liquor and football. Besides, I gave Anthony fair warning that I wouldn't sleep with him for at least a year if I found out he arranged for there to be strippers, and oh, I'll know…I have my spies," she winked at Sybil. "Aren't I the lovely sister?" she grinned at Mary, before thanking the bartender for the fresh drink.

"Yes, yes, thank you Edith," Mary groaned. "That still doesn't help me right now with _this_ dilemma!" she hissed, pointing towards the stage where the man in the golden thong smiled and gave a bow, purposefully with his back to the audience, and all three Crawley sisters gasped, before groaning as Rose leapt up and smacked the man's bum with her bare hand. "How much has she had to drink tonight?" Mary murmured to her sisters.

However, before anything more could be said, Rose was turning and bounding over towards the bar where they stood, a huge grin on her face. "Isn't this great!?" she shouted over the music. "Aren't you loving this!?"

Sybil turned to see if her sister would tell Rose the truth, before laying into their cousin about her suspicions that even though it was Mary's hen night, it was really an excuse for Rose to get drunk and watch nearly-naked men dance (if you called that dancing). However, she was surprised to see Mary force a smile and reply, "Yes, yes, just lovely!"

Rose beamed, clearly looking pleased with herself, before pushing her way through to the bar, flirting with the tall ginger lad, who blushed and smiled, before giving her her "usual". Good Lord, how often did Rose come here?

"My best friend Kristen brought me here several months ago, for her hen night," Rose answered the unspoken question, blowing a kiss at the bartender when he handed her her drink. "They have the most GORGEOUS men here!" she continued, tossing out the little lime twist that garnished her glass. "That was Jimmy that you just saw," she went on. Oh gracious, she knew them _BY THEIR NAMES?_ If Sybil hadn't been certain before, she certainly was now; Mary would never ever let her hear the end of this. "Doesn't he have the sexiest bum?" she giggled. "I swear, I could lick ice cream off—"

"I think we should propose a toast!" Sybil interrupted, smiling at Mary and purposefully pushing her glass forward. "To the beautiful bride and her adoring groom!"

"Here, here!" Edith added.

"To having sex with only one man ever again, after this Saturday!" Rose laughed, clinking her glass with the others.

Mary frowned and fixed Sybil with a cold look. Somehow the eldest Crawley sister held the youngest responsible for everything that Rose was saying and doing tonight.

Their cousin was completely oblivious, and she wasted no time in finishing her drink in one gulp. "Oh Mary!" she grinned, reaching out and gripping her cousin's hand. "Mary, Mary, Mary, I have the most wonderful surprise for you!"

Immediately the faces of all three Crawley sisters began to pale. "Do you?" Mary asked, trying not to sound as if she were dreading whatever it was Rose was going to say or suggest.

Rose giggled and nodded her head. "Yes, yes I do, but you must come with me to receive it."

Mary didn't budge. "Why don't you just tell me?" she suggested, planting her feet firmly on the ground. "I'm rather comfortable here."

But Rose was shaking her head. "No, no, no, you…you can't…" she was starting to hiccup. "You can't…enjoy what I have planned…here, silly!" She began to tug on Mary's hand again. "You _have_ to come to the stage, come on!"

Mary turned to Edith and Sybil, hoping they would save her from this embarrassing situation, when thankfully, a tall, dark-haired shirtless man in tight leather pants and wearing a black cowboy hat, emerged onto the stage amongst loud applause, the lights around the club suddenly dimming while the spotlights focused completely on him.

"Thank you, thank you ladies!" Thomas grinned, waving his hands overhead and smiling at the loud, cheering audience. "As I always say, it's good to be on the stage, looking out at this sea of lovely faces…"

Rose sighed dreamily, clearly admiring the man. "Shame he's gay," she sighed. "I'd tap that; I still would if he'd let me!" she giggled, elbowing Sybil who stood on her other side.

Sybil blushed and shook her head. She knew Rose could be wild, but this was a whole different side to her cousin.

"Are you enjoying the show tonight?" Thomas asked, which of course was met with loud applause. "Have you seen anything you liked?" he asked, and the applause only grew louder. "Are you ready to see some _more?"_ The applause was deafening. "Well good!" Thomas continued. "Because there's more to come, including a _very special someone_ I know that several of you are…shall we say…rather fond of…?"

Sybil jumped at the sudden cries of several women, who rushed towards the stage, practically salivating at whomever the next promised dancer was. Good gracious, whoever the man was, he clearly had quite the following!

_Groupies, Sybil; they're called groupies_. And judging from the way Rose's cheeks enflamed and her eyes sparkled, it was clear that her cousin was one of them.

"But first…" Thomas murmured, grinning out at the sea of faces looking up at him. "I understand that we have a special guest visiting us this evening…?"

"Oh no…" Mary whispered.

"Oh no!" Sybil and Edith said simultaneously.

"Oh yes!" Rose grinned.

"I understand…" Thomas continued. "That there's a lovely bachelorette here, celebrating her hen night?"

Several gasps went up from the rest of Mary's hen party, who were sitting closer to the stage where Rose had been. Now they all turned towards the bar, cheering and chanting Mary's name, while the spotlight suddenly began to move across the club to where their little group was standing.

"Rose!" Mary hissed, looking at her cousin with horrified eyes. "What have you done!?"

Rose looked confused. "Oh Mary, don't worry! It's just a harmless lap dance!"

"LAP DANCE!?"

"Don't be shy, love!" Thomas called out, peering towards the bar. He couldn't see far into the crowd due to the spotlights. All he knew about the lovely lady in question was that she was a brunette, very striking to behold, from what he understood, and most importantly (from a financial perspective) the posh daughter of an earl! "Come on, I promise you, they don't bite…hard," he chuckled, which earned some girlish squeals from the audience.

"Rose, I am NOT going up on that stage!"

Rose's confused expression now changed to one of hurt. "But…but Mary…" she looked at Sybil and Edith, as if expecting them to back her up. "It's your hen night! You're supposed to let your hair down and…you know, get a little wild," she giggled, doing a little shimmy to emphasize her point. However, Mary did not look amused.

"I am not going to sit on some chair while some oiled-up stranger dances and strips over my lap, in front of all these people! Especially when I know that most of them—yourself included," she pointed an accusing finger in Rose's face. "Will film it on your phone and post it all over the internet!"

Rose's cheeks burned brightly. "Oh…oh Mary I…I would never—"

"I'm not doing it, and that is final!" Mary stomped her foot.

Now Rose was starting to get annoyed. "Oh Mary, you're no fun!"

Mary was not bothered by this accusation. "If wishing to hold onto my dignity means I'm dull as powder, then so be it," she spat. "And despite what you may think, I quite frankly DO NOT MIND IN THE SLIGHTEST that Matthew will be the only man I ever have sex with again! He's been the only man I've been having sex with for the past two years!"

Rose made a face at this revelation, before quickly putting on a pout. The crowd behind them was beginning to get restless, and people were starting to clap and chant Mary's name over and over.

"Well someone needs to go up there," Rose pouted. "I didn't pay good money to see it wasted by NO ONE!"

Sybil bit her lip, wanting to keep peace if it were possible. "Why don't you go up there, Rose? I mean, you seem to like—"

"Why don't _I_ go up there?" Rose asked, as if it were the most ridiculous question in the world. "Why don't YOU go up there?"

And it was as if a light bulb had suddenly appeared.

"Yes…" Rose murmured, looking at Sybil with a growing smile. "Yes, why don't YOU go up there, Sybil?"

"ME!?" Sybil gasped, looking at Rose and then at her sisters. "Why me!?"

"Because when they asked for a description of the bride, I told them she was a striking brunette, and Edith, while pretty—"

Edith smiled at this.

"—is by no means a striking brunette."

Edith frowned at this.

Sybil couldn't believe what she was hearing. Was her cousin seriously suggesting that SHE go up there, onto that stage, and sit in that chair, while some…some…well, as Mary put it, some "oiled-up stranger in a thong", gyrate and thrust his pelvis all over her? Simply because she had _the same hair color_ as her sister!?

Sybil looked to her sisters, hoping they would say something and tell Rose that it was a stupid idea, that they should just leave and go to a club where men didn't remove their clothes…at least not up on a stage…and continue the evening from there. And if their cousin didn't like it and pouted the entire time about all the money she had wasted, well, that was Rose's fault; she shouldn't have made such plans without checking to make sure they were ok with the bride in question.

At the very least, Sybil hoped that Mary and Edith would say something along the lines of, "You can't possibly go up there!"

…But they didn't. In fact, they seemed to be nodding their heads as if…as if they AGREED with Rose!

"Oh…" Sybil looked back and forth between her sisters. "Oh no…no, no, no, you CANNOT be serious!?"

"…Alright milady," Thomas called out, clearly annoyed about the delay, but trying his hardest not to show it. "I'm going to count to five, and if you're not down here by the stage when I'm finished, then I'll just have to send someone to fetch you…"

Several cheers were heard and the chanting only began to grow louder as Thomas began his counting.

"1…"

"Come on, Sybil!" Rose grinned. "It will be fun!"

"But…but…"

"2…"

"Think of it as 'women's liberation'!" Rose declared.

Sybil stared back at her cousin in confused amazement. "Women's liberation?"

"Sexual liberation," Rose explained.

"3…"

"You're a single woman, Sybil! You haven't had a boyfriend since uni, so there's nothing to feel 'guilty' about! Live a little!"

"But—"

"4…"

"Oh for heaven's sake," Mary groaned, and without another word, threw off the bright pink _"bride-to- be"_ sash Sybil had given to her at the beginning of the evening, and tossed it over her sister. And before Sybil could say another word, Rose was grabbing her by the wrist and dragging her towards the stage.

"HERE SHE IS!" Rose shouted, just before Thomas said the last number.

"Ah, our lovely bachelorette!" Thomas greeted, holding his hand out to Sybil. The club erupted into applause, although the rest of Mary's hen party looked confused at seeing the bride's baby sister standing before Thomas, rather than the bride, herself.

"Go!" Rose hissed, all but pushing Sybil towards Thomas, and suddenly Sybil felt herself being pulled up onto the very stage where the shirtless cowboy stood, smiling down at her, before turning towards the audience and encouraging everyone to clap for her.

Despite the confused expressions on the hen party faces, the rest of Mary's friends soon joined in the cheering, and Sybil felt her face grow hotter and hotter. She doubted it was because of the hot lights shining down on her.

"Come and sit right over here, love," Thomas led Sybil over to a large, pink plush chair that seemed to sparkle under the spotlight. "Don't be nervous," he whispered in her ear, no doubt noticing how she was shaking. "I promise," he continued, just for her to hear alone. "He'll be gentle." She stared at him and saw the man wink. Sybil gulped.

"Now…" Thomas asked, as Sybil sank down onto the chair, turning so the rest of the audience could hear him. "Tell me…do you have a limo for the wedding?"

Sybil looked confused. "A limo?" She knew that Mary wanted to be taken to the church in the old Downton carriage; however a limo would be driving the bridal party back and forth. "Um…yes?"

"Good!" Thomas grinned. "Because it just so happens…we have your chauffeur here this evening," his hand moved towards the curtains just behind Sybil. "And he's prepared to drive you to your wildest fantasies!"

The audience erupted into shrieks and squeals, at levels Sybil was convinced only dogs would hear. Rose was one of them, and she turned and grinned eagerly at Mary and Edith. "You're going to regret this, Mary!" she laughed with a poke of her tongue. "Sybil's about to be driven alright…_driven mad with lust!"_

* * *

Tom tried to avoid watching the crowds before his act. Conquering his stage fright was something he had to do right away when he began performing at Thomas' club, and thankfully had been successful. Still, that didn't mean he liked being reminded that hundreds of eyes were watching his every move, even if all of the voices that went with those eyes were cheering. Yet for some reason tonight, Tom wanted to sneak a peek, try and gather how big the crowd was, or to be more specifically, how big this hen party was.

Throughout his life, he had seen hen parties at various clubs and pubs. Usually the bride-to-be wore some sort of ridiculous headdress or costume that he supposed was meant to get her free drinks, so he scanned the crowd, trying to see if he could spot the bachelorette that he would be performing for.

"_A striking brunette"_, Thomas had told him. Tom couldn't help but smile at that; there was a term one didn't hear too often anymore: _striking_. Was that true? Was the woman in question indeed, "striking"? While there were a great many brunettes in the room, and many of them were very lovely, he didn't see anyone to whom he would label "striking". But then what did he know? How long had he been single? He sighed and shook his head. His brother Kieran was the only other person that knew about this "secret night job" he was doing. After finally getting his brother to swear to secrecy, (and after Kieran had a good hearty laugh at the thought of his brother wearing a thong), Kieran clapped Tom on the back and said, _"Well, I didn't realize you were _that_ desperate to pick up women, but good for you for being creative!"_

Thomas was now on stage, preparing the audience for Tom's performance. Tom looked down at himself, his gloved hands smoothing down any wrinkles on his costume. It was a strange choice in costume for a male stripper, but every woman has her fantasy, and the ladies that frequented _Barrow's Burrow_ certainly seemed to like his "Edwardian Chauffeur" routine.

He checked his boots, his gloves, made sure his hat was secure, while Thomas called forth the guest of honor to the stage. Tom peeked once more behind the curtains, frowning as he realized that whoever she was, she wasn't coming forward. He squinted, trying to see where the spotlight had landed (it was somewhere near the bar) but the stage lights were too bright, and there were too many people blocking his view.

"…Alright, milady; I'm going to count to five, and if you're not down here by the stage when I'm finished, then I'll just have to send someone to fetch you…"

Tom swallowed. Was she even there? What if she had left? There had been some occasions in the past where a woman celebrating a birthday was invited to come up on stage, but feeling far too embarrassed or self-conscious, had more or less run out of the club before anyone could "escort" her. Perhaps that had happened here as well?

"HERE SHE IS!" shouted a woman's voice from the bar.

Tom lifted his eyes and peered out into club, watching as the crowd parted and clapped and cheered as the bachelorette in question was brought forth, the spotlight finding her and illuminating her path…

So _that_ was what Thomas meant by striking…

Indeed…the word fitted her perfectly.

_No…no, _stunning_ is more appropriate_. She was stunning.

Long, dark brown hair that tumbled down her back like waves of dark chocolate. Her creamy skin positively glowed under the spotlight, and her cheeks had a deep, beautiful rosy blush. She had a beautiful hour-glass figure, and he didn't realize he was holding his breath until he heard her finally speak. Her voice was low and husky, and God help him, extremely sexy.

…And in just a few short minutes, he was going to be on that stage, dancing—no, not dancing, _stripping_ in front of her.

The thought caused him to gulp.

But he didn't have time to think about the matter further, because the stage lights suddenly dimmed and the music began to play, and the curtains began to open.

Taking a deep breath, he put on the face that Thomas called "stern, smoldering, and sexy", and took that stage while the women below began to scream, strutting right up to the plush chair where she was sitting, turning to face her and give her an obedient bow.

She was even more gorgeous up close.

Her eyes were deep, blue, and dark. Her full lips were moist and pink and they parted in such a way with a gasp when he appeared, that he had to work hard to suppress himself from groaning.

He had danced before many beautiful women since being hired by Thomas, but none of them seemed to have this sort of impact on him. _It's probably nothing,_ he told himself. _You're just feeling this way because it's your first one-on-one._ That had to be it…right?

Still, as his eyes fell upon the pink sash across her chest, he couldn't help feeling a pang of jealousy for the lucky groom.

* * *

Sybil didn't know what to expect. As soon as she was led to the chair by the shirtless cowboy, her eyes were searching the audience, trying to peer across the bright stage lights to where her sisters and cousin were. She couldn't believe she had allowed them to do this to her! She couldn't believe Mary had encouraged Rose! And now here she was, pretending to be her sister, up on stage, and about to receive…

Oh God; she was going to be receiving a lap dance. Some thong-wearing stud was going to be stripping right in front of her face! The thought itself made her cheeks burn red. She wasn't drunk enough for something like this.

But there was no time to think, to even leap up and scream, "This is all some sort of mistake!" when suddenly the lights dimmed and music began to blast from the overhead speakers.

"_Baby you can drive my car!"_

The screams of the ladies in the audience went to an even higher level when the curtains just behind Sybil's shoulder pulled back. Oh God…he was just behind her, wasn't he? What did he look like? What was he wearing? The women around her seemed to…_approve_, judging by the way they were cheering. Was he anything like the blonde guy who had been on the stage earlier?

However she didn't have to ask any further, because suddenly…he was there! And Sybil gaped at the broad shouldered man who stood before her in…gracious, was that meant to be…chauffeur's livery? Compared to the other men she had seen on that stage in various scantily clad costumes, he was certainly the best dressed…and good heavens, he did fill that jacket very nicely.

"Milady," he murmured to her, giving her a bow. Sybil gasped, and if it were possible, her blush only deepened further.

The man was…well, for lack of a better word, gorgeous. Everything about him, his body, his arms, his chest and shoulders, his face—her eyes met his and she gasped at deep blue of his eyes. His lips curled slightly into the sexiest smile Sybil had never seen, and she swallowed deeply, especially as she watched his long fingers, encased in black leather, reach out for her hand…and without pausing to think, she took it.

"Oh!" she gasped, practically panting as the man lifted her hand to his lips.

"Ready for your ride, milady?"

Oh God, his voice, his accent! He had a sexy Irish brogue and Sybil was thankful she was already seated, because she felt her knees go weak at the sound.

Wait—did he just ask her if she was ready for her…_ride?_

Without warning, he swept in then, and Sybil let out a little squeal of surprise as his arms suddenly encased her body, and she found herself being lifted out of the chair, cradled against his broad chest, and momentarily twirled around on stage, while the women below her groaned in envy.

Her hands clung to the dark green wool of his uniform, and she looked into his eyes and felt her heart stop, realizing just how close their faces were to one another.

_Stop it, Sybil! He's a stripper, this is a performance! It's all an act, that's all it is! _

If only she could convince her racing heart. Indeed, she actually felt disappointment when he lowered her once more to the chair. The music continued playing, and the chauffeur grinned down at her, his teeth gripping the finger of one of his gloves…before peeling it off.

"ME! ME!" screamed a woman from the audience. Sybil turned her head, recognizing her cousin's voice, and blushed as she watched the chauffeur toss the glove in Rose's direction. He smiled then at the ladies who were cheering and throwing money onto the stage, even though this was a "personal" performance, threw the other glove towards them. He then turned his attentions back to Sybil, who watched with wide eyes and burning cheeks as he moved closer, and began to move his body in a way that suggested only one thing, while his long tapered fingers reached for her hands…and Sybil gasped as she felt him press her hands to the buttons on his jacket.

"STRIP HIM!" Rose screamed from the audience. "Oh God, SYBIL, TAKE IT OFF!"

"Sybil?"

She gasped and looked at the man who was grinning down at her. He had heard Rose scream her name, which meant he had also heard her cousin scream at her to remove him of his clothes.

"Go on, Lady Sybil," he seductively growled, pressing her hands against the buttons of his jacket.

Was he serious? He wanted _her_ to strip _him?_

She swallowed and blushed and her fingers gripped the fabric, but indeed, they seemed to have a mind of their own, because before she realized it, they were indeed busy undoing his buttons and peeling the jacket off him, while his hands gripped her hips, and began to bend her body to mold against his.

"Holy fuck," Sybil gasped, her eyes going wide as she felt an obvious bulge press against her pelvis. Was _that_ meant to be part of the act? And yet she couldn't help herself, she felt her body respond and move back to the thrusting vibrations of his movements, smiling to herself as she heard him groan when her hips responded and met his thrusts.

He suddenly moved away, in a rather fluid choreographed motion, her hands still gripping his livery jacket, but his body now free of the fabric. Beneath he wore a simple t-shirt, like the kind you would see on any man. But just like the rest of his uniform, sweet Lord, did he fill that simple piece of fabric nicely.

He removed his chauffeur's cap, grinning and tossing it to a woman in the audience who was screaming and waving her arms. He did the same with his tie, belt, and yes, even his boots. She was still holding the jacket and standing somewhat awkwardly, but he moved back to her, taking the coat from her hands and moving around her in such a way that before Sybil realized what was happening, he had the fabric draped across her shoulders.

She couldn't help but smile at the little maneuver, and found herself hugging the jacket closer to her body. She could feel his body's warmth radiating off the fabric, and she bit her lip as she watched him coax her back onto the chair, before giving her a wink, and then turning and facing all the women as his fingers ghosted across the hem of his shirt.

"YES! YES! YES!" they screamed. "STRIP! STRIP! STRIP!"

He was clearly one who did not disappoint.

Sybil stared and felt her jaw drop open as the room erupted into thunderous applause as the chauffeur aggressively pulled his shirt over his head in one fast, fluid motion, before throwing it as he had done with everything else, to the waiting audience.

The man was gorgeous in his uniform. And his body did not disappoint beneath it. Sybil stared at the taut muscles that rippled along his back. He then turned to face her and she swallowed as she stared at his flat stomach, chiseled pecs, and the naked, muscular shoulders, biceps, and forearms that seemed to glisten beneath the hot stage lights.

The man was a god. Irish sex on legs.

Legs. Oh God, his legs! His hands were gripping fabric of his trousers, and she felt her face burn as she suddenly realized what he was going to do.

He grinned down at her and began lower himself, as if he were going to straddle her body right there on that chair, and there was no doubt to the suggestion of his hips, based on the thrusting motions he was making.

God she wanted to touch him. To run her hands across his muscles, to feel his skin, to tangle her fingers in that sexy line of chest hair on his body. But with the exception of when he had placed her hands on his jacket to encourage her to unbutton it for him, she doubted she was supposed to lay a finger on him, so despite her instincts and what every fiber of her being was screaming, she gripped the arms of the chair until her knuckles turned white…and watched as he straightened himself…and tugged at the trousers on his legs.

Despite the deafening screams that filled the club, the rip of Velcro echoed off the walls as the chauffeur's trousers fell into a puddle on the stage floor, and he was left standing in a bright green thong (of course it was green), with a shamrock right on the codpiece that said in big, bold letters, _"Kiss Me, I'm Irish"._

She shouldn't ogle, she shouldn't ogle!

But she couldn't look away.

How was it possible for her to blush any deeper than she already was? HOW? And yet she did, especially as she recalled how her body had responded to his thrusts and what she had _felt_, hard and throbbing, against her pelvis.

The man did not have to worry about compensation. He was clearly, _clearly_, well-endowed.

He was suddenly upon her once again, and Sybil gasped as he picked her up, only this time his hands gripped her waist, and Sybil had no choice but to wrap her legs around the man's hot body, her fingers gripping his shoulders and moaning as she felt the hard, taut muscle beneath. Oh God, yes, yes, she didn't care anymore; let the man have his way with her!

He moved across the stage, one arm wrapped around her waist while the other hand splayed wide against her back. He spun them like before, and the women were throwing more and more money onto the stage, begging that he would "take them for a spin", too. The music reached its crescendo, and before it stopped, the chauffeur had her back safely onto the chair where she had begun.

Applause erupted all around them; everyone was on their feet cheering. But Sybil didn't notice any of them. Her eyes were locked with the Irishman, whose face was only a few inches away from hers.

They were both panting and breathing heavily, as if…as if they had just finished a hot marathon of love making.

His eyes kept floating back and forth from her eyes, to her lips. _Yes…yes, you can kiss me_, she wanted to scream.

"Alright, alright, alright!" came the voice of the shirtless cowboy who had called her up on stage. "Let's hear it for our lovely bride-to-be and her chauffeur!"

Sybil blushed as the crowd cheered, and then reluctantly turned her head towards Thomas, who was clapping and smiling, but also making a motion with his chin oh so subtly for her to get up and leave the stage. The act was over.

The chauffeur swallowed and Sybil swore she heard what sounded like a reluctant sigh as he straightened himself up, once again standing to his full height. She blushed deeply as she realized her face was at the same level as his…shamrock.

"Milady?" he murmured, holding his hand out to her. She bit her lip, not wanting to leave, or rather, not wanting to leave him, but knew that if she didn't, someone would quickly escort her off, and the last thing she wanted was to cause a scene and embarrass her sister (or end up in jail and have to explain to her parents the reason for why). So with a sigh, she nodded and took his offered hand, her body tingling at the electric shocks that were coursing through as their fingers touched.

"It was a pleasure," he whispered, and Sybil gazed up into his eyes, watching as he lifted her hand once more to his lips. Was it her imagination? Or…did he mean it? Because it sounded like he did.

Then he smiled at her. And no matter how hard the cynical side of her tried to say that it was all an "act", she knew, deep in her heart, that he had enjoyed that just as much as she had. And it was that little piece of knowledge that caused Sybil to do something extremely shocking, but no doubt had been on the mind of every woman who was there. She wrapped her arms around the Irishman's neck, and pulled his face down to hers for a hot, eager kiss.

"Oi!" Thomas thundered, dropping his microphone. He would have pulled her away and sent her packing…had the Irishman not responded by suddenly grabbing her up around the waist and pulling her tightly to him, returning her kiss with just as much vigor and passion as she.

They both moaned as their tongues sought entrance within each other's mouths, and Sybil felt her body melt against his…and his body harden once again against hers.

"Oi! STOP THAT!" Thomas hissed, tugging on the Irishman's shoulder, pulling him away and hissing some sort of warning into the man's ear. The man looked embarrassed and Sybil suddenly felt guilty; not because of the kiss (no, she would never feel guilty because of that kiss) but because she may have gotten the man in trouble. She tried to mouth the words "sorry" to him, but Thomas was already stepping in front of her, purposefully putting himself between her and the Irishman, before "thanking her" in a cool, clipped tone, for coming to _Barrow's Burrow_…and then asking that she kindly leave the stage.

She did as she was told, her sisters suddenly appearing at the foot of the stage to help her down, both Mary and Edith looking shocked and perhaps a little horrified with what had just happened, while Rose was grinning from ear to ear. "Way to go, Syb!" she grinned. "Glad to see you still have that rebellious side in you."

"I think after that," Mary muttered, ignoring Rose and waving a hand to the rest of her hen party. "It's time to leave."

"Oh, must we?" Rose pouted, but she didn't argue the case further. Instead, she stepped forward, wrapping her arm around Sybil's waist and giggling as she whispered in her cousin's ear, "Was it as good as it looked?"

Sybil blushed, knowing exactly what Rose was talking about. She looked over her shoulder then, hoping to see if her Irishman was still on the stage, but sadly, he had already disappeared. She sighed and turned her attentions back to Rose, before blushing and feeling a smile spread across her face. "Better."

She didn't even realize it until she had gotten home, that she was still wearing his livery jacket.

* * *

"You KISSED her?" Kieran gasped, staring at Tom in utter astonishment.

Tom groaned and nodded his head, running a hand across his face, still feeling like a utter arse, even though it had been two whole nights ago.

"Isn't that…against 'the rules' or something?"

Tom gave his brother a look which spoke volumes, however it only made Kieran chuckle, the bastard. After his performance the other night, Thomas pulled him back to the dressing room and told everyone else to get out, before he began to shout and reprimand Tom for his "unprofessionalism", screaming about how the last thing he needed was for some earl's posh daughter to go running to daddy, or worse, her new husband, about being "sexually harassed" on stage by one of his dancers, thus shutting down his business for good, before suing him for every last pound he had in the bank. It didn't matter if she initiated the kiss, he knew better than to kiss her back; she was some man's fiancée for fuck's sake! Lucky bastard. Tom didn't even know the man, and for his sake he prayed he never met him, because he hated the git who would get to kiss "Lady Sybil" for the rest of his days.

"Let it go, little brother," Kieran sighed, patting Tom on the shoulder. "Look, Thomas could have fired you, but he didn't. Decided to give you a second chance, right? It's fine! Nothing to worry about!"

Tom swallowed and forced a smile, although he wasn't so sure about that. Maybe this had been a wake-up call? Despite what Thomas said about him being "really good" and a "natural", Tom was nothing like Jimmy, who clearly would be quite happy stripping for the rest of his life. No, this was always a side job, and the sooner he could get his book sold to a publisher, the sooner he could quit. Besides, if anything, his "one-on-one" dance with "Lady Sybil" proved how lonely he was and how he wouldn't mind "getting back into the dating saddle" again. Although it was impossible to imagine another woman comparing to her.

_God, would you listen to yourself? You don't even know her! So what if she's beautiful…and gave you the best kiss you've ever experienced…there's _more_ to a woman and to a relationship than that._

…And how he wished he could get to know her more. He couldn't shake this odd feeling that…well, that everything just felt so…right.

But he didn't say any of this to his brother. What was the point, really? She was getting married to someone else, and he would never see again.

"Tom? I really need you to focus—" Kieran began, but Tom waved a hand, putting on a smile and nodding his head, giving his brother his full attention.

"I'm focused, Kieran, I promise; I won't let you down."

Kieran eyed him for a moment, and then nodded his head. "Alright, the bride is arriving to the church in a horse-drawn carriage—"

Tom couldn't help but snort at this. Of course she was.

"—But you will need to drive the rest of the bridal party to the church, as well as bring them back to the house for the reception."

"Downton Abbey," Tom repeated. Kieran had sent him a picture of the house where this grand wedding reception was to be held, and he remembered gaping at the image, wondering what kind of money these people had to be able to afford such a lavish place for a wedding reception?

"Think you can handle it?"

Tom gave his brother a look. "This isn't the first time I've driven people around, you know."

"Hey, after the little stunt you pulled at your other job, I didn't want you getting any ideas about screwing one of the bridesmaids—"

"Feck off!" Tom shoved his brother's shoulder, who only laughed, before handing him the limo's keys.

Within a few hours, he was parked outside the massive house, reading a newspaper and trying to focus on the story at his fingertips, rather than letting his brain wander back to that incredible kiss, and how good his "Lady Sybil" had felt in his arms. _Oh for fuck's sake, she's not_ your _Lady Sybil, why can't you get that through your thick skull? Why can't—_

The doors to the house opened, and Tom welcomed the distraction as he quickly got out of the car and moved around to the other side to open the door for the exiting bridal party, all of whom were dressed in varying shades of burgundy.

The women were completely oblivious to him, not that he was surprised. After all, who paid attention to the driver? The bridesmaids climbed in, each chatting and going on about how gorgeous Mary looked, and how Matthew wouldn't know what hit him when she walked down the aisle. Following the giggling bridesmaids was a woman he could only assume was the mother of the bride, who kept glancing at her watch, groaning and rolling her eyes, before turning and looking over her shoulder. "Girls! HURRY UP! We're going to be late, and we CAN NOT get there _after_ the bride!"

The lady climbed into the car and joined the others, and Tom remained stoically staring forward, his expression without emotion as he heard the rush of footsteps.

"Sorry, Mama, Rose lost her bouquet, so Edith and I were just—OH!"

Tom's eyes widened at the sound of her voice and he turned his head and stared in astonishment at the gorgeous woman who stood but a few feet away, looking even more beautiful than when he had last saw her, if that was possible.

"W-w-what are…what are you doing here!?" he stammered, staring back at her in a mixture of confusion, panic, joy, and…relief. Relief, because she clearly wasn't dressed as the bride.

"Me?" she gasped, blushing furiously. "W-w-what are YOU doing here?"

"I'm your driver."

"WHAT!?" she gasped.

Oh the irony. "I um…" he ran a bashful hand across the back of his neck, feeling embarrassed, but at the same time, he couldn't stop smiling. "…I really am a chauffeur, actually; it's one of several jobs I have at the moment."

Sybil stared…and then much to Tom's surprise and happiness, she burst out laughing, her hand flying to cover her mouth as that beautiful blush he remembered quickly flooded her cheeks.

"And…you're _not_ the bride?" he murmured, looking at her attire, but trying his hardest not to get his hopes up.

Sybil continued blushing but nodded her head, suddenly looking very guilty. "No, I um…my cousin, you see, arranged for my sister to um…well…my sister, she um…she didn't want to…not that there is anything wrong with you, of course, I mean you look very handsome—OH GOD!" she gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, blushing furiously at the words that were coming out.

Tom couldn't help but chuckle, folding his arms across his chest. "So…you 'sacrificed' yourself to take her place on stage?"

"Um…" Sybil bit her lip and Tom groaned, his eyes immediately drawn to it and those memories of her delicious kiss flooding his memory again.

However, before more could be said, Sybil's sister and cousin finally emerged from the house, Rose proudly waving her "missing" bouquet, while an exasperated Edith followed close behind.

"I FOUND IT!" Rose announced happily. "Isis got a hold of it, I think—OH!"

Rose froze in place, causing Edith to run into her. But before she could mutter anything, she too stared at Tom in disbelief, and Tom quickly realized that Sybil wasn't the only person at this wedding who had seen his…face.

"Well, well, well…" Rose giggled, turning and winking at Sybil. "Looks like your chauffeur has come to collect his livery."

_I told that girl that my prospects were good  
she said baby, it's understood  
Working for peanuts is all very fine  
But I can show you a better time._

* * *

_...to be continued? ;o)_


	2. Chapter 2

_So while a lot of people loved watching Tom "strut his stuff" on stage, it just wasn't *naughty* enough ;o) BEHOLD THE LONG AWAITED LIMO SEXYTIMES! And yes, because I suck at writing things "shortly", it is a long chapter (because darn plot kept cropping its head up *sigh*) :oP so anyway, I hope you enjoy, I hope you like, I hope it resembles something you were looking/hoping for, and THANK YOU for reading and following and reviewing! AND HAPPY SMUT WEEKEND (part deux!)_

* * *

_I told that girl I can start right away  
And she said, "Listen baby I got something to say  
I got no car and it's breaking my heart  
But I've found a driver and that's a start_

"Oh God! OH GOD!"

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuck!"

Sybil gasped as her body began to shake and shiver as perhaps the greatest orgasm she had ever experienced swept over her like a tidal wave. She moaned and threw her head back, and then a different gasp escaped her lips, one of shock, which was followed by a wince of pain as her head made contact with car seat. "Ow!"

However, her painful wince melted away as she felt a large, strong hand rise up to cradle her head. She looked up at the owner of the hand and a dreamy smile spread across her face as she gazed into a pair of deep blue eyes, which were mixed with a look of concern, as well as pure ecstasy, as his own body trembled with the same pleasure she had just experienced.

On the floor…of a limo.

"C-c-careful," he panted, looking down at her with such tenderness that Sybil thought she would cry from the joy that flooded her heart then. While she was far from a shrinking violet, she was also by no means a "goddess of seduction", and while there had been some positive experiences in her past, she couldn't deny that no man had ever looked at her _like that_, before. "Are you alright?" he asked, his breathing slowly starting to return to normal. His hand continued to gently cradle her head, and Sybil swallowed the emotion in her throat and nodded, blushing deeply, but smiling as well, loving the feel of him all around her and covering her.

Tom smiled back, before closing his eyes and letting his lips taste hers again. God, he loved kissing her. No, despite what he had said to Thomas the other night, he was not sorry for taking that chance and kissing her back. It had been worth it then, and it was absolutely worth it now.

They kissed for a long moment, the passion still strong between them, but the desperation a little less. She felt so good in his arms, better than he could have imagined. When he had held her the previous evening, when he had danced around the stage with her body wrapped around his, molding her against his frame, he thought everything about that moment had been heavenly.

Heavenly, and never to happen again. After all, he had believed her to be the bride, the woman whose hen night was being celebrated, and that come her wedding day, she would be doing what the two of them had just done with her newly married husband (the bastard). He had tried to not dwell on that thought, tried to remind himself that everything that happened on that stage was all an act, but God help him, he couldn't…

Not with her.

And why? Why did _she_ matter? Why was _she_ different? He was surrounded by beautiful women every night when he danced at Thomas' club, and it wasn't just money that was stuffed into his waistband, but plenty of drunkenly scribbled notes bearing phone numbers and promises to "rock his world" if he'd let them. He wore a smile for those women, but he never pursued any of them, had never wanted to!

Until her.

Well…perhaps he shouldn't question the hand fate had given him? Because much to his happy (and shocked) surprise, the woman of his dreams was here, at this particular wedding where he quite literally was working as a chauffeur…and she _wasn't_ the bride. Even better, she was single and had no date for wedding.

And the best yet…she seemed to feel the same way he felt for her. Or at least she seemed to be just as keen as he was when they finally managed to continue their kiss from the previous evening, before falling into the back of his limo and tugging desperately at each other's clothes.

Now here they were, practically naked and the both of them sated from what Tom would declare right now, hand over his heart, as the best shag he had ever experienced in his life.

"Mmmmm…" Sybil purred beneath him, her soft arms and legs enfolding his body. He wasn't ready to let her go, but he didn't want to crush her and leave "rug burns" on her body, so with tender hands he gently rolled the both of them over until he was lying on his back, loving the feel of her body holding tight to his, not ready to let him go either—

"Ow!"

Sybil's head snapped up. "OH! Tom?"

He was now the one wincing, as in the process of rolling over, his head was the one that came into contact with the car seat.

"Ow…" he groaned again. "That _does_ hurt."

Sybil bit her lip, trying to keep from laughing. Now it was her hands that came up to cradle his head. "Are _you_ alright?" she asked, her giggles betraying her, and only growing more obvious as he gave her a look, which was followed by a pout.

"Notice how _I_ didn't laugh when you hit your head?" he dramatically sighed.

"Oh poor baby," she giggled, before leaning up and carefully leaving a kiss on his brow. Tom melted even more under the sweet gesture.

"Yes, well…I didn't want you to be the only one to suffer with a lump on your head."

Sybil laughed then, and burrowed her face against his neck. Tom grinned and ran his hands up and down her back, one moment touching the rumpled fabric of her gown, the next the even softer, satiny feel of her skin. They both stayed like that for a long time, his arms around her, hugging her close, her body snuggled quite comfortably over his. It was perfect, and if they weren't careful, Sybil had a feeling they would easily fall asleep like this (not that she would mind, necessarily). However, the reception was still going on, and someone might eventually notice that the maid of honor was missing. And the last thing she wanted was to get poor Tom into further trouble (after all, she had already done enough of that the other night when she had boldly kissed him on stage). So with a resolute sigh, Sybil slowly began to rise, pulling the straps of her dress back up over her shoulders and once again covering her breasts.

Tom sighed and remained where he was, watching as she righted herself, admiring her beauty and smiling broadly as she tried to bring some sense of order to her dark, tousled hair. It had been perfectly coifed in an elegant up-do of some sort when he had first seen her, held together by a dozen bobby pins. Those very pins were scattered all over the limo floor, and Tom had a feeling they would still be finding them weeks later.

"Well, bugger," Sybil sighed, giving up on the task. "Mary's friend Anna did our hair, and there's no chance in hell I'm going to be able to fix it; suppose I'll give everything away when people see me with my JBF hairstyle?"

Tom's brow furrowed. "JBF hairstyle?" he asked, sitting up a little, his body leaning back on his elbows.

Sybil giggled, a dark blush coloring her cheeks. "Just-been-fucked," she explained.

His eyes widened for a second, and then a bit of a cocky smile began to spread, before he sat up completely, his hands moving quickly to cup her face and thread his fingers through her hair, before bringing her lips once more to his. Sybil moaned into the kiss, and then gasped as she felt him stir against her thigh. "Mmmmmm…you're not making this easy," she whimpered as she felt his lips move down her throat.

Tom sighed and forced himself to stop. "I can't seem to get enough of you," he confessed, feeling both light-headed as well as unusually confident that he could speak so open and honestly with her. He had met Sybil Crawley two whole nights ago, and yet there was a part of him that felt he had known her his entire life.

Sybil blushed at his words, feeling the same way. "Do you have to drive back to London tonight?"

Tom sighed, nodding his head. "My brother is probably wondering why I haven't called in yet; I was only needed to drive you to and from the church."

"Oh Lord, I don't want to get you into more trouble—"

He silenced her by kissing her again, and Sybil melted once more against him. "You're worth it," he murmured, when the kiss came to an end, his forehead resting against hers. "Besides…he's my brother. It would be a very awkward Christmas if he fired me for being a few hours late. And he can't really accuse me of 'joy riding', since I didn't put any extra mileage on the car."

Sybil lifted her eyebrows at this. "So what will you tell him, when he asks where you've been all this time?"

He shrugged and gazed at her with a smile that made her toes curl. "I could tell him the truth—_a version of it_," he assured her with a wink. "That I met an amazing woman who…" he looked at her a little hopefully. "…Will let me take her out on a proper date when she gets back to London?"

Sybil felt her heart skip a beat at his question, and a smile gently curled at the corners of her mouth. "You…you want to go out with me?" She felt like an idiot the second the words passed through her lips. Good heavens, what was she, twelve? Yet Tom's gentle laugh brought her out of her insecurity, and he answered her by leaning in and brushing his lips softly against hers, his fingers brushing some of her hair gently behind her ear.

"Aye, Lady Sybil; I would very much like to go out with you, if you'll have me?"

Some guys would think, _"What's the point? I got what I wanted, I don't need to wine and dine her to get a shag," _but Sybil could tell that despite the place where she had met Tom Branson, he was nothing like those sorts of men. Yes, the two of them had jumped ahead several steps (her American grandmother would say they had "skipped second and third base and went straight on home"), yet despite the way their "relationship" if one could call it that, had escalated to this point…Sybil could see, just by gazing back into the Irishman's kind eyes, what had happened between them—what _was happening_ between them—was more than "just sex".

"I'd love that," she murmured, blushing deeply and suddenly feeling a little shy. Her eyes quickly looked away, partially because she was feeling overwhelmed again with emotion, and she didn't want to startle him if he saw tears in her eyes.

Yet his fingers, which had risen again to stroke her cheek, gently cupped her chin and tenderly encouraged her to lift her face. "Me too," he murmured back, before leaning close once more, and brushing his against hers. Sybil's arms immediately wound around his neck, pulling him closer and deepening their kiss, her heart feeling as if it would burst with happiness at the unexpected surprises her sister's wedding day had offered.

Who would have thought? Who would have thought that two nights ago, when she had found herself at Barrow's Burrow, and found herself up on that stage with this sexy Irishman, that she would ever see him again? Of course, who would have thought that she would have the boldness to just grab him and kiss him like she had that night? And certainly, who would have thought that after meeting him again, considering the origins of their "relationship", she would throw all her rules about cautiousness to wind, and let passion take control? But perhaps the biggest surprise of all was…who would have thought that the man who had given her a lap dance from two nights ago…was in fact, the man of her dreams?

* * *

_Earlier…_

It was hard concentrating on what was happening in front of her, when all she wanted to do was turn her head and see if he was still there. But she knew he was, because she could _feel_ him watching her. And while with some guys this would completely turn her off and be seen as a major creep factor, with him, it added a bit of a thrill, and sent a warm shiver down her back.

She gave a quick glance out of the side of her eye, and felt her cheeks immediately flood with heat as yes, there he was, standing off to the side in the back of the sanctuary, his hands folded behind his back, his eyes forward, looking as if he two were watching the ceremony take place…when in truth, his eyes were locking with hers.

Sybil snapped her head back to attention, swallowing hard and forcing herself to look at the bride and groom, putting on a smile and gripping her sister's bouquet just a little more tightly than before. A soft giggle could be heard behind her, and Sybil did her best not to roll her eyes in that moment. Yes, no doubt Rose was finding all of this very amusing.

Tom was still completely stunned by everything that had happened. One second he was thinking about her (again), the woman that could never be…and the next, there she was! Standing and looking beautiful in that burgundy bride's maid dress, revealing to his rapidly beating heart that no, she _wasn't_ the bride, that she had never been a bride, and ever since learning this news, he couldn't stop smiling.

…Or looking at her.

When they had arrived at the picturesque village church, Tom like the good chauffeur he was, opened the door and held his hand out to aid any of the ladies climbing out of the limo. _She_ was the last to disembark, and when she took his hand, he couldn't help but give it a gentle squeeze, causing her to gasp and look up at him with those beautiful blue eyes that had been filling his head ever since he had seen them.

"Come along, Sybil!" her mother had called, instantly bringing a beautiful pink blush to her cheek.

"Milady," he whispered, bowing his head to her like an obedient servant, which seemed to make that blush grow even darker, and he couldn't help but grin as he heard her suck in a quick breath.

She released his hand and quickly followed her mother. Two other women were standing at the church door, waiting for her, and both of them seemed to be smirking. He wondered if they had been at the club as well; he couldn't place their faces, but then again, he hadn't been focused on anyone else's face after seeing hers…

* * *

Normally on such jobs like this, it was customary for the chauffeur to wait in the car. Tom had brought a copy of his manuscript to go over, sighing as once he would try a new publisher and hope things would turn out better than the last four, but now after this recent turn of unexpected events, he found himself drawn to the church…particularly to a certain bridesmaid.

He slipped into the back of the sanctuary shortly after the bride arrived in that horse drawn carriage his brother had told him about, and stood silently and watched as the organist began to play a wedding march, and the congregation stood to attention as she descended the aisle to where a very happy blonde chap stood, beaming at the sight of his lovely bride.

But Tom's eyes weren't on the bride or the groom.

God, she was even more beautiful than he remembered. The gown was the perfect color on her, and its cut molded her curves in such a flattering and elegant manner, that he couldn't deny, it made his mouth water just a little. Her dark brown hair that had been tumbling down her back and shoulders when he had danced for her, was now piled high atop her head, revealing a beautiful, creamy neck that his lips ached to kiss. And not just her neck, but her beautiful, lush pink lips which he still remembered, every waking second.

Indeed, his gaze was for her and her alone. And he couldn't help but smile as he watched her take her sister's bouquet and hold it, and as she smiled at the couple, and as she clapped for them when the vicar pronounced them husband and wife and they shared in their first kiss as such. He also couldn't help but grin as he noticed every so often during the ceremony…her turning her head just slightly to look at him. Was it too much to hope that perhaps this gorgeous woman was just as curious about him, as he was about her? He knew her name was Sybil (her friends had called her that at the club, and he had overheard her mother call her that today), and he couldn't stop thanking his lucky stars that she wasn't the one getting married, but…what else? Did she live in London? What did she do for a living? What were her hobbies? Oh God…did she have a boyfriend? What if she had a date already here, at the wedding? Just because she wasn't the bride didn't mean she was single (and it was impossible to imagine a woman like her being so), but he was still hopeful.

_I don't even know her, and she's all I've been able to think about since that night…_

With the ceremony over, the congregation filed out and Tom returned to the limo. He watched from the car as everyone threw rose petals into the air as the bride and groom exited, but once again his eyes were focused on the beautiful maid of honor who continued to hold the bride's bouquet. She continued to clap as the newly married couple shared another kiss, but he also noticed how she kept turning her head, as if she were looking for someone…

He silently prayed it was him and not some wanker who had the good fortune to call himself her boyfriend…

* * *

"Sybil, what are you looking for?" Edith asked, taking notice of her sister's rather odd behavior.

"The chauffeur, of course," Rose giggled, nudging Sybil just slightly and giving her a wink. "And who can blame her, am I right?"

Sybil's face glowed hotly under her cousin's accusation (which just so happened to be correct) and was thankful that the photographer called all of them to his attention, so he could start taking pictures which, for the time being, would delay any further questions.

Forty minutes later, Mary now satisfied that all the pictures she had wanted were taken, it was time to return to Downton for the reception, which meant it was time for Sybil and the rest of the bridal party to find the limo and take it back. She swallowed as she saw the car slowly pull up to the front of the church once more…and watched as once again, her mysterious Irish chauffeur emerged to open the door for them.

_I really need to learn his name,_ she thought to herself, which naturally only caused her blush to grow even hotter. _Why? What does it matter? It's not like you'll ever see—_

She stopped that thought right there, because she had thought that to be true the other night and yet _here he was_…at her sister's wedding. Working as an actual driver, and not simply playing the part on stage.

_How many jobs does he have? He said this was one of many; well, I know _one _of those other jobs,_ she blushed, her eyes falling to the ground as she drew closer to the car.

"Pleasant ceremony?" he asked as she approached.

She lifted her eyes and met his, a shy smile slowly spreading across her face. "It was…" she confirmed. "But you were there too, so you saw for yourself."

He nodded his head, and she noticed how a rather cheeky grin began to spread across his face. "Aye, but this wedding was special to you, because it was your…sister, you said?"

So he remembered. "Yes, my oldest sister," Sybil murmured, blushing a little more. "_Finally_ marrying Matthew, who she's only been in love with since they were students at university together," she giggled, shaking her head slightly at the memories. "In fact, I believe that was the very word I used when she announced that he had proposed: 'finally'!"

He joined in her laughter then, and Sybil felt a warm wave wash over her at the sound, as if she were being enfolded in the softest and thickest of blankets…

_Or enfolded again in those two powerful arms of his._ Oh God, did her mind have to recall that particular memory just now?

"SYBIL! Will you please get in? We're going to be late for the reception!" her mother groaned from inside the limo.

She blushed and offered a quick apology to her mother, and then glanced back at him, before quickly climbing into the limo so they could be on their way. The drive to and from the village church to Downton Abbey was short and fleeting…which was exactly how the rest of the day seemed to feel, after they returned to the house and the reception got under way.

Rose teased her mercilessly, of course. She kept asking Sybil in a hushed voice if she would try to gain a "private audience" with the "hunky chauffeur" and see where he could "drive her". Rose was driving Sybil mad at the moment.

"Branson, isn't it?" Cora asked, as they exited the car once they had returned to the house.

"That's right, ma'am," he nodded his head, standing up a little straighter.

"Well thank you for all your trouble," she murmured, extending her hand to shake. Sybil watched as the Irishman smiled politely and took the offered hand.

"Think your mum knows that she's shaking hands with one of London's hottest strippers?" Rose hissed in her ear.

"Shut up!" Sybil hissed back.

Cora frowned and turned to look at her daughter and niece, before shaking her head and turning her attention back to Branson (yes, now she remembered; the women were chanting "Branson! Branson!" the other night at the club).

"Anyway," Cora resumed. "Our chef, Mrs. Patmore, has prepared more than enough food for today, and we'd like to give you a hot meal before you start on your drive back." She then pointed towards what was once the old servant's entrance to the house, where dozens of servers were rushing in and out with covered trays.

"Thank you, ma'am," he answered with a polite smile, and Sybil blushed deeply as his eyes met hers, before he bowed his head to her mother once again.

She wanted to say something, in some ways it felt rather silly and patronizing, "dismissing him" to the servant's quarters, however she knew that in the eyes of her mother, his uniform would cause him to stand out a bit from everyone else if he dared enter the house to sit and dine with the rest of them. Oh gracious, wasn't she jumping ahead of herself? Just because they shared a very intimate dance…with him in a green thong…before she snogged his brains out…

"Sybil? Rose? Come along!"

Sybil woke from her stupor and quickly turned to follow her mother back into the house, though she could still feel his eyes watching her as she left. Would he still be there later? How soon did he have to return? Would she ever learn his first name? Would she ever get a chance to _really_ talk to him?

All those questions had to be brushed aside as the reception moved into full force once she joined the rest of the bridal party at the grand table in the Downton ballroom. Speeches were made, champagne was poured, toasts were shared, food was eaten, cake was cut, music played, and dancing took place. The bride was radiant (as if there was any doubt about that), the groom looked handsome, and everyone clapped and demanded another kiss as they took to the dance floor again. Sybil watched, smiling at her sister and new brother-in-law as they celebrated the day, her smile growing as more couples joined the two of them on the dance floor, including Edith and her husband, Anthony, her parents, Matthew's mother, Isobel (who surprised everyone by bringing the Crawley family physician as her date), Mary's best friend from school, Anna, and her fiancée, John, and Rose had been enjoying the attention of several different dance partners, though right now she seemed to be happily settled with a member of the wedding band who kept receiving glares from his fellow band mates, but he himself only had eyes for Rose.

No one seemed to notice that the maid of honor was sitting off to the side. Not that there hadn't been a few offers to dance (she had shared a brief dance with her father and her two brothers-in-law) but once again, Sybil's mind was racing to the mysterious Mr. Branson. And without a second's thought, she rose and went downstairs to the kitchen's and the old Servant's Hall, hoping that perhaps she would find him there still.

"He's already gone, dearie!" Mrs. Patmore informed, while her kitchen staff made busy work of dismantling the grand wedding cake into slices for all the guests to eat.

Sybil felt her heart sink at the news. But why would he stay? What reason did he have? Only…only she thought that maybe…

"Are you talking about the chauffeur?" Daisy, Mrs. Patmore's assistant, asked. "The one with the black stretch limo?"

"Yes!" Sybil answered, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. "Have you seen him? Is he still here?"

"He's just outside," Daisy explained. "Standing by his car, last I saw. Why don't you take him a piece of cake?"

"Oi! Don't go giving away free samples of my cake!" Mrs. Patmore grumbled.

"He can have mine," Sybil reassured the chef, before grabbing one of the beautifully cut slices, and making a quick getaway through the servant's entrance, her heart pounding rapidly with each step…as she drew closer and closer to the very limo Daisy had mentioned.

* * *

The food was good, no doubt about that, and Tom was grateful for it, otherwise it would have been a greasy cheeseburger on the way back to London. But he had finished eating two whole hours ago, and should have been on the road by now; he wasn't needed any longer. Yet he had stayed, hoping, just perhaps, he would see his Lady Sybil once more.

_His_ Lady Sybil. He really needed to stop thinking of her like that. She wasn't his; and just his luck, she probably did have a boyfriend or a date or at the very least a dozen dance partners lined up to take her for a spin around the grand ballroom.

His own face flushed as he recalled the "spin" he took her the other night on stage at Thomas' club. She seemed to be enjoying herself, or was that just his wishful thinking? He remembered how she clung to him, how her fingers dug into his shoulders when he picked her up, how her legs squeezed him, how her body seemed to…move with his…or was she simply worried he would drop her?

Oh God help him, he had it bad. This girl was a stranger to him, and yet he realized that this was more than just sheer lust he was feeling. He really, really wanted to get to know her. Take her out on a proper date and everything; buy her dinner, see a movie, take her someplace nice to dance that didn't require him removing his clothes—

A tap on the limo door drew him back to the present and he looked out, thinking perhaps it was that nice girl named Daisy, who had come out earlier to ask if he wanted some coffee or tea to with him on his way back to London. He had assured her it wasn't necessary, but no doubt she was probably thinking him odd for just…hanging around the house, and suspect he had a reason (which he did, but he couldn't very well voice it), but instead, when he rolled the window down…his eyes widened and his mouth practically fell open when he realized it wasn't Daisy…but her.

Sybil.

"Hi…" she blushed, a shy smile on her face that looked dazzling on her. "I um…I thought you would like some cake?"

She closed her eyes, and looked embarrassed, but he found her adorable, and he quickly opened the door, wanting to stand and talk to her properly, than through the window of a car.

"Thank you," he murmured, taking the offered cake from her, though he kept looking at her the entire time. She blushed again and he felt his fingers twitch with yearning to stroke that pink cheek. He forced himself to look down at the cake he now held, frowning as he realized there was only one piece.

She must have noticed, because she was quick to tell him, "Oh, it's my slice; you can have it!"

"But what about you?"

She shook her head, though she continued to smile. "It's alright, please, I um…I want you to have it."

He looked at her for a moment, and began to smile as he took the fork she had brought, and dug into the cake with it. "Share with me?"

"Oh! But…but there's only one fork."

He nodded, taking notice of that. "I promise I don't have cooties."

She looked back at him, and then burst out laughing, a wonderful, musical sound that made his heart soar. He hoped he could hear her laugh more before the night was done; he loved it.

"Alright then," she giggled, and then…on a rather bold move, opened her mouth, waiting for him to pop the cake. Tom held his breath, praying that his growing arousal wasn't too obvious as he stared at her lips, and carefully brought the fork to her mouth. "Mmmmm…" Sybil moaned as she tasted the cake, and Tom bit his own lip to keep from groaning out loud, though the sound she made did have a sudden effect on a certain portion of his anatomy.

"Good?" he asked, practically squeaking.

Sybil giggled. "Well you tell me?"

Was she…was she flirting with him? God, he hoped so. He didn't waste any time, he swiftly took a bite of cake and could immediately see why Sybil had made such a pleasurable sound. "Oh my God," he groaned, taking another bite.

She laughed again. "I know, it is good, isn't it?"

They fed each other cake, going back and forth, sharing the fork, and oddly enough, becoming more and more relaxed with each other. "So…" he ventured after a moment. "As grateful as I am that you brought me this, why aren't you inside dancing the night away?"

She blushed and he smiled as he watched the beautiful shade of pink spread across her cheek. "One has to have a partner to dance," she murmured.

"I don't believe for a second there isn't someone in there dying to dance with you."

She looked up at him and blushed again, but giggled this time too, and shook her head. "No, I'm afraid not. Besides, I have a bit of a reputation when it comes to the dance floor," she confessed. "And if someone values their toes, they steer clear from me."

His eyebrows rose at this. "Now that I find even harder to believe."

"Well you haven't danced with me, have you?" Of course the second the words had left her lips, the both of them began to blush and fidget shyly, like a pair of young kids on their first date. "SO!" she carried on, trying to save the both of them from the rather awkward moment they had stumbled upon. "Um…so how long…how long have you—?"

"Stripped?" he teased.

"What? NO! No, no, I…I um…" she shook her head, trying to recover, though he couldn't help but smile and admire her, even in a flustered state. "You said earlier that you're also a chauffeur…that…that it's one of several jobs—"

"I'm a writer, actually," he explained. "Or…I hope to be, one day," he sighed. "I haven't had much luck with publishers."

"Oh really? What do you write?"

He chuckled. "Nothing too exciting; history and politics, actually. Really dry stuff."

But she was shaking her head. "I love those subjects! I really gave some serious consideration to making history my focus at uni! Women's History especially, as my favorite era happens to be the suffrage movement between 1880 and 1930," she explained.

His eyebrows rose again, but his grin only spread further and he leaned against the limo, curious to hear more. "My book is actually about the years leading up to Ireland's independence; I had a great-great-great grandfather who worked closely with Michael Collins, and he kept journals from that era, and…it's amazing, just…reading about those years, the turbulence that was happening, but also the amazing changes by the people!"

"That sounds amazing!" and he could tell that she wasn't just saying that, that she meant it too. "And that's insane that a publisher hasn't recognized that yet! I would love to read a book like that!"

She meant it. He could see it in her eyes that she truly thought what he had written was interesting.

"Well, I'm going to try a different publishing company on Monday; see if my luck is better there," he murmured. "But until that takes off, I'm stuck doing various odd jobs around town." Including stripping. There it was again, the elephant in the room. "So, you said history nearly became your focus at uni, but clearly something else won out." He was desperately trying to change the subject.

She nodded her head. "I um…I'm a medical student," she told him. "In a few months I'll start my residency, at St. Thomas' in London."

His eyes grew wide. "Wow…well, congratulations! That's amazing!"

She blushed and looked down at the ground. "Thank you, although I've still a long way to go," she giggled, but her smile, both on her face and in her eyes made his heart melt, and once again he was reminded by how quickly he was falling for this girl.

"I'm Tom," he introduced, realizing just then that he had never given her his name.

"Sybil," she answered, blushing as she shook his hand. "Though um…you already know that," she whispered.

He nodded again. "And you're the maid of honor, who stood in for your sister at the club." She sighed and nodded her head guiltily, which only made him grin more. "So…does that mean it was you who made all the arrangements?"

Her eyes widened and if it was somehow possible, her face grew even redder (darker than the gown she was wearing). "No! I had never even heard of the place until—not that there's anything wrong with it, I just…I mean I would never…I…" she looked mortified and he couldn't help but laugh. She groaned and rolled her eyes at herself. "My cousin, Rose…the one whose bouquet went missing earlier," she explained. "She wanted to do something for Mary; Edith, my other sister, she had organized the bridal shower, I was in charge of all these other tasks, so Rose asked if she could organize the hen night, and I foolishly said yes."

"Foolishly?" he asked.

She looked up at him and bit her lip, and his eyes were once again drawn to it.

"Alright, perhaps…'foolishly' is too strong a word, but…but none of us knew that Rose had made those arrangements with the lap dance—"

She cut herself off, looking so embarrassed, but again, Tom could only find her sweet and endearing. God, it wouldn't be difficult to fall head over heels in love with Sybil Crawley.

"You were my first…" he found himself murmuring.

Sybil whipped her head so quickly, Tom was concerned she would give herself whiplash. "W-w-what?" she practically squeaked.

Now it was his turn to blush. "I um…I had never done that before," he explained. "Lap dancing, I mean. You were my first."

Her eyes grew even wider_. "Really?"_

He couldn't help but laugh, more to save himself embarrassment than her surprise at the revelation. "Yeah, um…I've actually only been dancing at the club for a month," he explained. "I was originally hired to be a doorman; but one of the performers didn't turn up, and Thomas was desperate, so he just grabbed me by the shoulders, said something about how 'women love an Irishman', and pushed me out on stage…"

Sybil gazed up at him, her blush still glowing, but that sweet smile was back again. "And the rest is history," she murmured. He nodded his head, still feeling a little sheepish about the whole revelation. "Well…" she continued, nibbling her bottom lip. "I um…I'm very honored. And…and you were my first too, actually."

He chuckled again. "So we were each other's firsts?"

"Seems that way," she softly giggled, although unlike before when they shared a laugh, there seemed to be a growing tenseness in the atmosphere around them. And Tom found himself becoming more and more drawn to the beautiful Lady Sybil.

"Did I…?" she began, looking up at him and gasping slightly when she realized how much closer to the two of them had gotten.

"Did you…?"

She swallowed. "Did I…did I get you into trouble? For…" her eyes lowered slightly, and Tom felt his heart speed up as he realized she was looking at his mouth. "I'm sorry…" she whispered after a moment, her eyes still on his lips.

He let out a long, shaky breath. "You're sorry for kissing me?" he asked, his voice soft.

"What?" her eyes snapped back up to his. "Oh! Oh no, no, I didn't mean that, I just meant I'm sorry if I got you into trouble, I mean…I…I don't know the protocol, but…but I assume you're not supposed to…you know…" she closed her eyes and groaned, but Tom couldn't stop smiling as he gazed at her.

"You're right, patrons aren't supposed to touch or kiss if we don't initiate it, and even then there's a line," he explained. He leaned a little closer, and boldly murmured, "But it was worth it."

Sybil's eyes met his again, and he wondered if she was holding her breath. He certainly was.

"I'm glad, by the way," he added, his own eyes falling to her parted lips.

"Glad?" she asked, rather breathlessly.

He nodded. "I'm glad…that you're not sorry for kissing me."

They were so close…just a few more inches—

"SYBIL!"

They froze at the sound of her name being shrieked by a very giggly (and from the sound of it, very drunk) Rose.

"Oh no," Sybil groaned. She looked at the limo then, and then back up into his eyes. "Hide me, please!"

He bit back his laugh and quickly opened the door, the both of them jumping inside as Rose called out for her cousin again, hiccupping and laughing as she did so. "SYBIL! Where—_hiccup!_—where are you? I know—_hiccup!_—I know you're out here!"

"Don't say a word!" Sybil hissed to him.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he whispered back, finding the whole situation extremely funny.

"SYBIL!?"

"The windows are tinted, aren't they?" she asked him. He nodded, then held his breath as Rose drunkenly bumped into the limo, banging on the windows.

"Are you—_hiccup!—_are you in there shagging the chauffeur?"

"Oh Lord," Sybil groaned. Even Tom felt his face begin to burn.

"No fair, Syb…" Rose pouted.

"ROSE!?" Now came the shrill voice of Rose's mother, who sounded both sober and irate.

"Ugh, piss off…" Rose moaned, and Tom and Sybil listened as her cousin quickly scampered away, her mother's voice continuing to call after her, both of them remaining quiet until they heard the last of their footsteps fade away.

"That was close..." Sybil mumbled, turning her head from the windows to look at Tom. Their breath caught as once again, their faces were only a few inches apart.

"Very close…" he whispered, though right now he wasn't talking about her drunk cousin.

They gazed at each other for a moment that felt like an eternity. Eyes moving back and forth from the other's, to the other's lips. The night he had danced for her, she had surprised him by grabbing his face and pulling his lips down to hers.

It was time he took matters into his own hands.

"MMmmmmm!" Her gasp quickly became a moan, as his hands cupped her face and he brought his mouth to hers. It began as a meeting of lips…and it quickly became more. Tom groaned as he felt her mouth fight his for dominance, he quickly surrendered, welcoming her tongue as it sought his, his own drawing hers out and returning the fervor of the kiss with the same passion he had felt those two nights ago when she had first kissed him.

"Sybil…" he moaned against her mouth, and she whimpered his name back, making him smile as he felt her arms weave around his neck to draw him closer, kissing him deeper.

"Tom…" she moaned. "More please…"

His lips were moving across her face, along her jaw, down her neck. He smiled against her skin at her soft, breathy plea. "Yes, milady…" he grinned, before moving back up to her lips and reclaiming then again in another deep kiss. His hands were around her body, his fingers digging into the fabric of her dress. They were on the seat, and he was leaning over her slightly, but soon she was pushing back, leaning into him, her left arm grasping him around the shoulders and neck, while her right cupped his face, her fingers caressing his jaw and cheek, before threading in his hair and drawing him even closer.

Yes, this was just as he had remembered it…only better. Just as he had no regrets about kissing her back that night on stage, he had no regrets about kissing her now, here, inside a limo.

"Jesus!" he groaned, as he felt her body practically straddle his on the car seat, not that he minded. In fact, he didn't mind one bit! No, by all means, he welcomed it, and pulled her even closer, one hand cradling her shoulders, while the other moved up and began to tangle in her hair. Sybil pressed herself closer, her mouth devouring his deeply, her body molding to his frame. She didn't seem to care that his fingers were more or less tangling and undoing her perfect coif, not when she ground her hips against him, mimicking those very movements he had done the other night when he was dancing before her on stage. "Sybil…" he groaned between kisses, his body growing hotter and harder with every touch.

She moaned as his fingers fisted into the fabric of her dress, while his other hand threaded into her hair. The numerous bobby pins that Anna had used to hold her unruly hair up went scattering, but once again, if she cared, she didn't show it. "Ooohh yes," she moaned, as his fingers began to run through her hair, and then down her shoulder, tugging on a strap of her dress. She continued to grind against him and Tom groaned into her mouth, their lips fusing together once again. Suddenly, she tore away from his mouth and grasped his shoulders, staring back at him. Her blue eyes were dark, and Tom understood that look because it was one he was feeling himself: hunger.

"So…" she whispered rather boldly, leaning close and letting her tongue flick out near his ear. "Have you ever had a lap dance?"

Tom swore and felt his body stiffen even more, if that were possible. She giggled and playfully pushed against his shoulders, until he was leaning further back into the seat. "I'll do my best without music," she giggled…which soon became a whimper as she ground herself over him, his cock which was straining inside his trousers aching for release, and aching to fill her.

"Now…if what you say is true…" she whispered, speaking between kisses. "You're not supposed to touch, is that right?"

"Oh God, love…" he groaned, shaking his head. "I don't think that's going to be possible…"

She grinned against his mouth. "Do try," she whispered, before pushing herself away, only slightly, her lower body still moving in that erotic rhythm, while her hands moved away from his shoulders, and then slid along her neck…up to her face, and into her hair, her back arching and her breasts thrusting forward.

His mouth watered as his eyes slid to her chest. He loved a woman with curves, and he wanted to devour Sybil Crawley's curves. He had a feeling he could spend an entire night just touching her and feasting on her; he'd be a happy man just doing that. "Mmmmm…" she purred, as her hands slid down from her hair, scattering more pins, giggling as she heard them fall on the floor, before her hands fell at last to the straps on her dress. "Remember, no touching…" she giggled.

"I can't make any promises," he groaned, but his eyes were drawn to her hands and his heart skipped several beats as she painstakingly began to slide the right strap of her dress down her arm. "Oh God, was I like this?" he gently teased, humor being the only thing he could cling to right now for his sanity's sake, as she drove him mad with lust.

She grinned; her eyes were closed as she paused with her right strap…and moved to her left. "You were both better, and worse," she informed him.

"How so?" he asked, his eye still glued to her fingers and the straps of her dress.

"Well," she tried to explain. "It was better, because it was _you_, and I got to see every glorious part of you become unwrapped before my eyes—"

"_Almost_ every part," he interrupted, and then wickedly gave his pelvis a thrust, causing her to gasp because he knew she could feel his hardness straining against her, and leaving no room to the imagination.

"Yes, well…" she tried to regain her composure. "We'll get to that later."

"Not too much later, I hope," he groaned, his hands itching to take what was left of her dress and just tear it off.

She smiled and leaned close, running her tongue along his lips. "I'll make it worth your while, I promise."

"I have no doubt about that," he groaned in response.

She leaned away again, and even though she was being incredibly sexy and confident (and he loved that) he could still see a bit of shyness in her eyes, and that delicious blush from earlier was still on her cheek. Yet there was also trust in her eyes, and Tom felt both honored and overwhelmed by that trust she was showing him. _She's absolutely amazing_, he thought. _Whatever you do, DO NOT let this girl out of your miserable life…_

She closed her eyes again…and then with a deep breath, pulled the straps of her dress down completely, revealing to his starving eyes a black lace corset that hid her breasts. It was the sexiest piece of lingerie he had ever seen. "Fuck me…" he groaned at the sight.

Sybil opened her eyes and looked back at him, licking her lips and blushing but smiling. "Now I certainly don't think _that's_ allowed with a lap dance," she giggled.

"Forget the lap dance," he groaned, his arms moving around her, his hands touching the flesh of her near-naked back and groaning at the soft, sanity feel of her skin. He pulled her close, desperate to kiss her, and Sybil whimpered against his mouth, her body still grinding against him and his against hers as they suddenly found themselves rolling off the car seat and onto the floor of the limo, giving the both of them more room to move.

Tom was desperate for her, his body aching for her, but more importantly, he wanted to do those very things he had been thinking about not so long ago, to touch and taste her, and so without another thought, he rolled Sybil onto her back, quickly shrugging his suit coat off, while Sybil tugged at his tie and made quick work at the buttons on his shirt. However, she didn't get very far because his mouth was already on her throat, kissing down her neck, to her creamy shoulders and delicate collarbone, shivering as she felt his lips and tongue pepper her flesh, leaving a burning trail of fire in its wake. "Ooohhhh…" she moaned as his tongue dipped and tasted her cleavage, while his hands moved up to cup the sweet swell of her breasts, still encased the black lace of her corset.

"It unclasps in the front," she told him, blushing deeply as she spoke.

He grinned and nodded his head in approval, before moving his fingers and pulling at the tiny metal clasps, grateful that this wasn't Edwardian England, and he would have to fiddle with laces. Although there was something sexy and appealing, imagining Sybil in one of those dresses…and the clothes worn beneath such dresses, but right now, he wanted to see her, all of her, and God, how he wanted to taste her.

As soon as rosy tipped nipple came into view, Tom attacked, his mouth falling upon the tender bud and sucking it into his mouth while loving it with his tongue. "OOHHH!" Sybil gasped, her fingers going to his hair while he suckled and pleasured her breast, before moving his mouth across her chest to do the same for the other. She moaned and whimpered and dug her fingers into his scalp, scratching it and hissing with pleasure as his teeth gently tugged on her nipple, before sucking it further.

"Mmmmmm…" he growled against her flesh, returning to her other breast once more, as his hands began to make busy work with the hem of her dress, pushing it up and letting his fingers run along the smooth flesh of her legs.

"Oh Tom, OH!" she gasped, practically lifting her body off the floor of the limo as one hand slid up along the inside of her thigh, and his knuckles ran along the lace of her knickers.

"Ooohhh Sybil," he groaned, his kisses moving further down her body, his brow resting against her stomach. "You're soaking, love..."

"Yesssssssssssss…" she moaned, nodding her head to the obvious, and then gasping again as she felt his fingers push against the lace, and trace her slit through her knickers. "Tom…Tom please…"

She sounded just as desperate as he was feeling. "All…" he kissed her stomach. "In…" he kissed further down, along her navel. "Good…" he pushed the skirt of her dress up her hips, revealing more delicious, creamy flesh for him to see. "Time…" he finished at last, his hands moving up and gripping the waistband of her knickers, and peeling them down, her scent attacking his senses and making him ravenous. Yes, yes, he wanted to make love to Sybil Crawley many, many times, because he wanted to have the leisure of a night where he could do just what he was about to do for many, uninterrupted hours…

* * *

Sybil threw her head back the second she felt his mouth touch her in her most intimate place. But that was nothing compared to his tongue a second later, which ran along the outline of her core, before dipping and tasting her at last. "OH GOD!" she gasped, her hands flailing at her sides, searching for something to grip. Thankfully, his own hands were there, and her fingers held fast to his, as he moaned against her mound, before nuzzling closer, his tongue slipping deeper and tasting more of her. "OH! Tom! TOM!"

"Mmmmm…you taste so good," he murmured into her body. His tongue moved up then, and began to flick against her clit, and Sybil thought she would surely come undone by the action.

"AHhhhh!" she gasped, her body lifting off the floor of the limo again, practically bucking towards him and his mouth made love to her body. Sweet heaven, was there anything this man couldn't do? The way he moved, the way he kissed, the way he touched her, and now this too? But even more than that, the way he talked to her, looked at her, the way he listened to her…everything! He was perfect…or rather, he was perfect to her.

"Tom, Tom, Tom, Tom…" she was panting his name as he continued to move his tongue around her clit, bringing it between his lips and sucking on it gently. She screamed when she felt him add a finger…and then another…and began to thrust his fingers in and out of her body, making her long for more, making her long FOR HIM. "Oh Tom…I…I…I can't…"

"Come for me, Sybil," he groaned, pumping his fingers a little deeper. "Please…I want you to; I want you to come so badly…"

She didn't have to be told twice. She screamed his name as her climax took her, trembling and convulsing with pleasure, his mouth never stopping its delicious assault. His tongue continued to lick, but in a manner that was soothing, helping her come down from the intensity of her orgasm. His fingers ran up and down her thighs, moving up to her stomach, over the fabric of her dress that still covered her torso, and high up, brushing gentle fingers over her breasts, before reaching her shoulders, and then kissing up her body, until his lips reached hers again.

She didn't hesitate, she kissed him, blushing as she tasted herself on his mouth, but not minding in the slightest. The boyfriends she had in the past never cared for oral sex (at least not in the sense of giving). The few times she had experienced it, those lovers always acted like it was a chore, a duty, something they "should" do for her, rather than something they wanted to do. Tom Branson was just the opposite.

"That was amazing," he murmured into her ear. "_You're_ amazing."

"You're not so bad yourself," she panted, blushing as she gazed up at him.

He smiled down at her, his fingers brushing along her cheeks, before moving up again and running them through her hair. "Consider that one of many thankyous for my lap dance," he said with a wink.

"_One_ of many?" she gasped. "I…I don't know if I can survive another like that! At least not without some time to recuperate."

He chuckled and began to kiss the skin of her neck, savoring the taste and texture of her skin, his lower body brushing along her thigh, leaving very little to Sybil's imagination.

"How much time is necessary then?" he innocently asked. "You're _very_ addictive, milady."

She shivered at his words, but found her legs already moving (amazingly) around his body, encasing him and locking him to her. "As much fun as that was," she moaned, lifting herself off the floor of the limo to press her pelvis against his groin. "I'd think I'd much rather you do what you said you were going to do the other night."

He looked at her with a little confusion, though he was groaning again at the feel of her body moving against his.

"Don't you remember?" she giggled. "You said you were going to 'take me for a spin'."

He groaned and nodded his head, his mouth moving to hers and kissing her deeply. "Is that what you'd like?" he asked, to which she whimpered a desperate "Oh God, yes, please!"

He laughed then, and Sybil blushed, but grinned back, and then watched with heated eyes as he leaned away from her, just for a moment, to grab the jacket he had discarded and dig out his wallet, which possessed the very item he was looking for. Sybil snatched the condom out of his hands, and then proceeded to open herself, grinning wickedly at him as her teeth ripped open the foil…and her hand traveled down his torso until she reached his belt, where Tom was already busily undoing it.

"Do you have any idea how sexy you look?" he asked her, as she continued to hold the edge of the condom, still in its wrapper, by her teeth, while now both of her hands quickly finished the work they had started earlier on his shirt, pulling the buttons apart, just short of ripping it from his body. As soon as his chest was revealed, she didn't hesitate to run her fingers over the muscled skin, recalling how wonderful it had felt the other day when he was holding her while he danced.

"Oh God, Sybil…" he groaned, as her fingers moved down his stomach, not pausing until they found edge of his trousers, and dipping her hands eagerly inside, grasping his hard, swollen cock in her fingers, gasping herself as she felt him tremble in her hands. "Oh careful love," he hissed. "I'm teetering on the edge as we speak…"

She removed the condom she was holding between her teeth from her mouth and smiled as she gazed up at him, licking her lips and imagining all sorts of naughty scenarios. "Turnabout is fair play, then," she giggled, helping him push his trousers down, along with his boxer-briefs. "No thong?" she asked, a slight, teasing air to her voice, however that air blew away the second his cock came into view.

"Not today, love," he groaned, taking the condom from her fingers, not trusting himself right now if she tried to roll it on him. He hadn't been lying when he had told her he was teetering on the edge. "But I promise to wear it for you another time?"

She looked up at him, forcing her eyes away from the delicious sight of his erection. Had he, in a manner of speaking, just ask her out? Oh Lord, she hoped so. She _did not_ want this to be their last encounter!

His hands moved around her and eased her back down on the floor of the limo. Sybil moaned and her legs parted even further as she felt Tom settle between them. The tip of his cock brushed along her thigh, and he held his breath as he slowly pushed himself up…before sinking inside her in a smooth, firm thrust.

"Fuuuuuuuck…" he gasped, closing his eyes and furrowing his brow as if he were in deep concentration. "Oh God, Sybil…fuck, you…you feel amazing!"

Her eyes felt like they were rolling into the back of her head as she felt him fill her. "Holy shit!" she gasped, wincing slightly at the unsexy exclamation. But her brain was a little scrambled right now, especially as he slowly began to move inside her. "Oh Tom…" she moaned, biting her lip and closing her eyes, gasping as he moved a little deeper.

"Does that…does that feel good?" he asked, rolling his hips just so, causing himself to groan with the movement.

"Yes, yes…" she moaned. "More…oh God, please, don't stop doing _that!"_

He chuckled and rolled his hips again, and Sybil gasped along with him, as she felt him move even deeper. "One…One of your dance moves?" she asked him, looking up at him, her arms weaving around his neck, her nails scratching at his shoulders.

"They do come in handy," he teased, before gasping as she began to meet his rhythm. "Oh fuck, love, you…you're a natural..."

"See?" she purred, wrapping her legs around his waist, urging his thrust further. "I just…I just needed the right dance partner."

He was going to laugh, but couldn't, the pleasure was just becoming too intense. So instead, he answered her by bending his head and kissing her deeply, his body starting to thrust a little faster, a little harder, and she gasped and whimpered and begged for more, which he was only too happy to give. She met each thrust, clinging to him, pulling him, wanting him to never let her go. She kissed him until she was panting, her body trembling as she felt the pleasure roll up and begin to wash over her, like a building tidal wave.

Soon she was screaming, his name and the Almighty's, over and over, and his face was buried against her neck as her orgasm swept through her, causing her to shake and tremble and convulse like nothing she had ever experienced. A few seconds later, he was coming hard too, swearing and gasping, before the both of them collapsing in a heap of panting chests and rubber limbs.

And even though he was still, in many ways just a stranger, Sybil thought as she held him close and breathed him in, his lips tenderly leaving kisses along her shoulder, _I could easily fall in love with him…and that's only if I haven't already…_

* * *

"You know, you never told me what the 'worse' thing was."

Sybil looked up from her dessert. "What?"

Tom grinned as he noticed she had a little chocolate frosting on the corner of her lip. Feeling bold, he leaned across and gave her a quick kiss, stealing it from her and earning a sweet moan and a pretty blush.

"That night, in the limo," he explained, smiling as he watched her blush deepen. "I had asked you, while you were in the midst of stripping for me," he wiggled his eyebrows, "if I was like that, and you said it was 'both better and worse', but you never told me what the 'worse' was."

"Oh God," she giggled, bringing her hand up to cover her blushing face. "I um…well, the point is mute since we both ended up shagging on the floor of your limo!"

"Which my brother is still ignorant about," he chuckled, squeezing her hand.

She blushed and fidgeted in her chair. "I just…I only meant 'worse' in the sense that I wasn't supposed to…well, to touch you and kiss you and do all those things with you that you were mimicking! It was torture, basically," she said matter of fact, before helping herself to another bite of cake. "That's something I'll never understand about people who go to strip clubs; what's the point if you can't…you know, _enjoy yourselves_ later?"

"Mmmm, and we do like to 'enjoy ourselves'," he chuckled.

Sybil blushed and gave his leg a bit of a kick, which only made him laugh more. This was their third date together, and Tom felt confident enough that he and Sybil had finally reached that stage where it was more than just "dating". They were in a relationship now, and he loved it. After getting back to London, Tom knew his dancing days at Barrow's Burrow were over. How could he dance for all those women when there was really only one woman he wanted to do that for? And Sybil did have a point in the sense of it being a form of torture. Thomas tried to convince him to change his mind, but Tom shook his head, honestly telling his friend that he had met a girl and he was strictly a "dancer of one" for now. Even though Sybil hadn't asked him to, and told him that she wouldn't force him to stop, he could tell she was grateful that he had done this, and confessed later, after they had parted ways at Downton Abbey, that the thought of another woman someday having the good fortune to earn another lap dance from the Irish chauffeur, did bring out the jealous side in her.

To make up for his lack of funds from the club, Tom took on more work at his brother's garage, and started some freelance writing for several online news sites. His book was submitted once again to a new publisher, and while he was still waiting for positive confirmation, he had received a note from the editor telling him that so far, she liked what she had read, and thought there was a great deal of promise to it.

He and Sybil connected again the day she returned to London, and he took her out for dinner that very night. Surprisingly, perhaps, the night didn't end the way their time up at Downton had. Tom gave her a long, deep, goodnight kiss on her doorstep, and told her he would text her when he got back to his flat. They both ended up exchanging messages back and forth for another two hours, before finally falling asleep with his phone lying over his heart. It was after their second date that once again, they found themselves pulling at each other's clothes and tumbling down together, this time on Sybil's bed (which was much more comfortable than the floor of that limo, and didn't have any of the hazards to their heads like those car seats had.

They made love many times that night, before collapsing into the best sleep he had ever had, loving the feel of her naked form pressed against his body. In the morning, they went out for breakfast and he walked her to the hospital where she worked, parting with another kiss, before promising to call and text each other, and meet up again in a few days for a third date, which they were enjoying now.

Tom's phone buzzed and he groaned as he dug it out of his pocket, frowning at the number, before stuffing it back in.

"Who's that?" Sybil asked, noticing his look.

"Thomas," he muttered. "He keeps pestering me about my old chauffeur's costume. Said the livery jacket is missing and asks if I have it. I've told him five times that I don't, that I left everything there when I quit, but he won't take my word for it, it seems." He looked at Sybil then and noticed how she had gone pale at his explanation. "What is it? What's wrong?"

She put her fork down and guiltily lifted her eyes to his. "Um…about that jacket…"

His eyes widened. _"YOU_ have it?"

"Well you put it on me!" she swatted his shoulder. "So technically, Thomas is right; it was you who misplaced it."

He rolled his eyes. "Why didn't you say something? I could have taken it back after our last date—"

"I know, I know, and I should have, I just…" she sighed and looked back at him, that guilty expression still lingering, but a sexy one on her face as well. "It just has some…sentimental value to me now," she explained. "I mean, I didn't think I was going to see you again at the time, so…when I got home, I…"

He was leaning close. "You…?"

She bit her lip and looked up at him, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "I…may have decided to sleep in it…"

His eyebrows rose. "You _may_ have slept in it?"

She nodded. "I mean, it _did_ smell like you," she explained, blushing deeply.

He found himself grinning at the thought, envisioning her snuggling into bed with that jacket, the image causing his heart to swell.

"…_And_ I may have been naked," she added, for his hearing only.

Soon other parts of him began to swell.

"…_And…"_

He turned his head. _"And?"_ There was another and?

"…And…I may have clutched to it tightly...and thought of you…while I took something out of the drawer that's next to my bed, on the right-hand side to help…ease my tension…"

Tom turned his head away from her and waved his arm to their waiter. "Check please!"

"Tom! I haven't finished my cake!"

"We'll need a box too!" he told the waiter, before turning back and looking at her. "If you would be so kind, milady, I would love to go back to your place and watch as you 'reenact' that night."

She swatted his chest, but grinned as she leaned in to kiss him. _"Just_ watch?" she asked.

"Well…I can't say I may not want to take over after a bit," he grinned.

She laughed and wrapped her arms around him. "I think I'm falling in love with you."

"You _think?"_ he teased, pulling her closer and feeling brave enough to say, "I _know_ I am."

She smiled and rubbed her nose against his. "After this date? I can guarantee it's a certainty."

_Baby you can drive my car_  
_Yes I'm gonna be a star_  
_Baby you can drive my car_  
_And maybe I love you_


End file.
